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By Teresa Maro Rozich
May 1998

I huddle inside my small cage.
I can barely stand, it's so small, but that is ok,
because the wires of the floor cut into my bare feet when I do.
My skin is raw, and cut, where I've had to lay so uncomfortably
for hours on end, days without end, years that go on forever.
My body offers no comfort, as it's thin, and boney.
I have no bed on which to lay my body.
No blanket to cover me when I'm cold.
No furniture on which to sit.
No private place to do my "business".
No friends to call my own.
I am in Solitary Confinement,
with only myself for company.
My fellow "prisoners" can't help me,
for they too are in total misery.
Their lives are no better than my own.
I often hear their cries in the night.
Cries of pain, cries of sadness, cries of loneliness.
I am hungry, and sick, but my captors don't really care.
I receive no medical attention, as I'm not considered
important in the entire scheme of things.
My children give me a few moments of joy,
But they are taken too early, leaving my breasts filled with milk.
I know a different kind of pain now.
The pain of love lost.
The pain of true misery.
My stomach has stopped growling.
It's way beyond that, as I sit here with the pain.
Yesterday I Vomited blood, as my stomach began to turn on itself.
Today I saw hair falling out by handfuls.
What had been beautiful golden hair is now gone.
Part of me wonders if maybe it will be over soon.
I sit day in and day out, staring into space.
I have no family to remember to give me strength.
I know of no God to worship in times of fear.
I have no love to remember in times of pain.
I have no hope.
I have no hope,
For I am a prisoner of Cruelty.
A prisoner of Pain.
A prisoner of Greed.
A prisoner of War.
For I am a prisoner of a Puppy mill.


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